


The Value of Mercy

by Silence_Speaker



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Late Night Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silence_Speaker/pseuds/Silence_Speaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edmund was named the Just King because he understood (as much as any person is able) the value of mercy. A lesson is imparted. Or, Lucy, Edmund and Caspian discuss the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Value of Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer.
> 
> Based mainly on the film scenes. Scene from Prince Caspian.
> 
> Just a conversation between two Pevensie's and the King they are setting on his throne. Or, Edmund the Just truly lived up to his title (and freely gave a lesson).
> 
>  
> 
> _"Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn." - C.S. Lewis._

“I know. You had it sorted.” Edmund’s quiet words swept through the chamber as he turned on his heel and left.

Peter glanced to Susan, who made her own disapproval clear, then to Caspian before staring at the stone fresco quelling the rebellious hope that threatened to rise in his chest. He was not so successful at dampening the shame.

The fire around the stone image flickered and burned, framing the portrait. Fitting, almost, except for the fact the fresco was a poor substitute for the real thing. Cold stone nothing like the warmth of strong-soft fur. 

Aslan could not be wrought sufficiently in a statue or painting. His true majesty could only be hinted at unless he was there, standing proud before you.

The shattered ice glimmered from the ground, one last defiant gleam from the witch before it softly melted to water, leaving small puddles as the only testament to the White Witches presence.

Lucy stepped forward until she was standing at his side, looking straight at the stone rendering of the mighty lion.

“He still feels the cruel touch of winter.” She eventually sighed, looking down momentarily before meeting Peter’s gaze, head tilted up, a frown across her smooth forehead and a stubborn set to her jaw.

Her face was made for bright smiles, not frowns.

“He’s his harshest critic and memories linger. Please talk to him.”

Peter’s lips downturned. He didn’t particularly want to speak to Edmund at the moment. Didn’t want to speak to anyone.

His youngest sister stood tall and proud, her queenly aura not a cloak she donned but an essential part of her. It was oddly humbling in the face of someone so young.

He sighed. He could never resist Lucy’s pleading face.

“I’ll speak to him later. Now isn’t- He needs his space for the moment.” Unsaid were the words that it was _Peter_ who needed his space right now. Lucy scanned his face with far too much knowledge.

“As you wish. Don’t leave it too long.” 

Peter glanced between Lucy and the stone fresco, the flames sparked higher and if the red of her dress had faded it would almost look like a painting of a young girl looking up to Aslan with unwavering, unconditional faith.

Peter envied her that. He was unsure if it was based on a ten year old child’s trust in authority figures, figures who showed her such care and love or if it was Queen Lucy of Narnia valour shining through.

For what was more courageous than faith in times of great hardship? 

Faith when all hope seemed lost?

He left the room, pausing only for a split second at the cracked stone table.

Had the loss of faith in Aslan once more split the solid stone?

 

#

 

“What did you mean? About the winters touch?” 

Lucy startled slightly having forgotten about Caspian who was still standing before the stone carving of Aslan that didn’t do the magnificent lion justice.

There was open curiosity in Caspian’s face, a lightness to his eyes tempered with responsibility well known.

She wondered if to others she seemed that young, that...untouched by the grimness of reality.

Caspian was Peter’s age, younger if you discounted their years in Narnia. Lucy wouldn’t discount anything from Narnia but it was obvious returning to London, returning to their younger bodies had also reverted them somewhat to children again. They hadn’t been going around as adults in children’s softer bodies but nor had they been children again.

It was, she thought with a glint of humour, probably like being a teenager. In between two unreachable steps.

Lucy weighed then young boy-king in her mind. Peter had been nothing but hostile since they met. Edmund had been as normal, not letting others judgement taint his own actions, but it was obvious he supported his older brother to the bitter end. Edmund’s loyalty, once won, was unshakeable. And Susan...well, she was still beautiful and noble, intimidating. Especially to anyone who fancied themselves a suitor or showed interest.

Her heart went out to Caspian, fighting against his uncle, a man who Caspian had trusted before he tried to kill him.

If nothing else, he deserved her truth. The full of it, not some pretty fairy tale tied up with a bow.

“How much do you know of the White Witch Jadis?” She asked, wondering where she would have to begin. Caspian frowned.

“That she was the winter to Alsan’s warmth. She sowed discord with her flurries of snow and tried to take over Narnia but that was where you and your brothers and sister along with Aslan stopped her rise to power.”

“Anything else?” Lucy prompted feeling her cheeks warm slightly. How she had forgotten the way her praises were sung in Narnia! It was nice to be complimented on things she had done but generally they were given too much credit. (And too much blame.)

Caspian frowned, wracking his brains for the stories his mentor had told him as a child.

“That she tried to kill the High King and almost succeeded because of a traitor in your midst.”

Lucy blinked. It was odd hearing their lives distorted to a fragmented fairytale only partially correct.

“Anything about the traitor?” She hated using that word; Edmund had repented truly and thoroughly and well earned his title of The Just. Lucy suspected that only Edmund could truly hold a title like that purely because he had experienced things, he _had_ been a traitor, twisted by the White Witches pretty promises and his own jealousy.

And he had come through before the end, turning over a new leaf quite literally.

Lucy wished the events had never happened because of the pain they caused her beloved sibling but they had been necessary for Edmund’s growth of character.

It was just a pity the lesson had been so harsh, Edmund would have grown in his own time to the man she remembered from Narnia.

Caspian shrugged.

“I assume the traitor was dealt with. Probably killed for their deceit.”

Lucy’s eyes widened as she felt a pang through her heart. Glad, so very glad that that had _not_ come to pass.

“I take it that didn’t happen then?” Caspian queried. He was watching her with interest, fully invested in the history of Narnia from a firsthand source. And wasn’t that an odd thought?

“It was by chance,” and Aslan’s will, “that we stumbled upon Narnia in the first place. Me and my siblings are not from around here but another world entirely. I was the first to enter the lands. I met Mr Tummus, a Faun, the first time; we had tea and a chat together before I returned to my home world.” Lucy paused.

“A kindly, nice person was who I met.” She smiled fondly at the thought of the Faun who had been one of her closest friends in Narnia. “Now, the White Witch had held Narnia in her cruel grasp for hundreds of years, keeping the land stuck in winter. No spring. No Summer. No Autumn. Just icy snow that concealed her many spies and informants.”

Caspian looked startled.

“Edmund was the next to come through. The first person he met was the White Witch herself. And like you saw when she looked into yours and Peter’s deepest desires and offered the sweetest of honeys to soothe so she did to Edmund. He accepted, answering her questions as she doted on him.”

Caspian’s eyes were wide, his mouth ever so slightly agape as he looked from Lucy’s face to the painting by the door of the four siblings seated together, laughter in their faces, a painting of them older than they appeared now.

“By the time all four of us entered Narnia together Edmund was within her unforgiving hold-”

“You soften the truth, Lucy.” A quiet voice interjected and Caspian jumped. Lucy was close to the same reaction herself but years of getting used to Edmund’s silent tread had made her nearly immune to it. (After all, it wasn’t dignified for a Queen to jump in fear in front of an assembly of people.)

Edmund stepped out of the shadows and settled himself down on the broken table next to her.

“I was a fool. A jealous fool and I betrayed you all in the worst of ways. The...White Witches promises may be honey sweet but they held enough of a biting sting to warn away.” Edmund turned to Caspian.

“I was jealous.” He said frankly. “Resentful of Peter who tried to be our father in his absence, resentful of Susan whom I thought too overbearing and resentful of Lucy’s unflagging optimism. I was bitter. So I chose a cowardly route and ignored all that is good.”

He looked at Caspian intently.

“I not only betrayed Narnia, the few good values I harbour but also my own family. My sweet sisters and my good brother. I deserved a traitors death for what I did.” 

Lucy gasped. “Edmund, no-”

A wry smile touched her brothers lips.

“I relayed the plans of attack to Jadis and for my misplaced loyalty was tossed into the dungeons.”

Lucy blinked. She hadn’t known that.

“She put you in the dungeons?” Lucy asked, appalled. She had seen the dungeons of the ice palace when they four of them toured it before ordering it to be torn down. The dungeons were miserable places and usually the people put into them were not in a condition to survive beyond the night.

Edmund didn’t remove his gaze from Caspian. 

“I escaped.” Edmund said simply, not going into detail. “Fortunately for me Aslan’s mercy is great. Nearly matched by my siblings capacity for kind heartedness. They forgave me my treachery.” Edmund said softly, looking overwhelmed. “For that I strive to be at least half as noble as my siblings are.”

Lucy frowned.

“Edmund, we’re quarters of a whole, the thrones weren’t dealt with an unwieldy hand. You are King Edmund the Just as much as Susan is Queen Susan the Kind and Peter is High King Peter the Magnificent.”

Edmund smiled but Lucy could tell her words had done little.

“You forgot the most important one; we would never have entered Narnia if it wasn’t for Queen Lucy the Valiant.” 

Edmund gave a true, nothing held back, grin when she flushed. It was nice to see, she hadn’t seen him smile like that in a long time. A year really, ever since they had returned from Narnia and since Peter had begun to scorn Edmund’s help.

It was almost a reverse of how Peter and Edmund had been before their first foray into Narnia.

Lucy did so dislike discord. Especially between her brothers.

“It isn’t a tale to be forgotten.” Edmund murmured, staring at the stone fresco with undeniable hope. Edmund too held faith that Aslan would come.

“Your betrayal?” Caspian asked quizzically, not quite sure what Edmund was getting at.

“No. The mercy shown that day.” Seeing Caspian, and Lucy, didn’t truly comprehend Edmund explained further. “Aslan showed me mercy that day, he didn’t smite me down as would be well within his power to do so, instead he cradled me close. Forgave me. Mercy should never be forgotten nor disregarded. It is one of the most precious gifts that can be given. Had Jadis not been defeated that day then I would be presumptuous enough to claim that mercy, forgiveness, was the most important lesson learnt that day.”

Silence fell throughout the room once Edmund finished his little speech. It was a heavy silence but not uncomfortable.

Lucy smiled brightly as the wet patches on the ground where there had moments before been ice disappeared next to the heat of the still flickering torches framing Aslan’s image.

Her smile faded when she noticed Edmund’s slight grimace as he held his hand above the hilt of his sword.

“What is it?” She asked, all thoughts fleeing in the presence of her brother injured.

“Nothing.” Edmund answered, casually moving the hand that had been pressed against his stomach to his side, fingers idly tracing over the grooves worn through time over the stone slab.

“Hmmm.” She disagreed. She had spent years with two older brothers coming back from various fights and skirmishes claiming not to have a scratch yet bearing wounds that could easily become fatal. Well, they weren’t that bad, not really.

Peter mostly hid his wounds out of pride. Edmund because he didn’t want to worry his sisters. She had caught Peter and Edmund many a time tending to each other’s wounds when it wasn’t bad enough to call for a healer. She wondered if that would happen now or had Peter managed to drive a wedge between them in this past year? No, Edmund’s loyalty was not so fickle.

Edmund’s eyes flickered over to where the White Witch had stood for a few moments.

Aha.

“The Wound is troubling you.” Lucy stated surely. ‘The Wound’, their name for the purple scar that marred Edmund’s skin at his stomach. The scar from the White Witches wand.

“It is hardly a wound. Scar is more apt a word.” 

Lucy noticed he did not disrepute her words. And Edmund didn’t lie. He was good at twisting words to suit him but he didn’t turn to untruths.

“Let me see.” Lucy demanded, shuffling closer. He let her lift the hem of his tunic up but he didn’t look particularly happy about it.

The mark, standing out against Edmund’s far too pale skin, was an almost violent purple, like a bruise that had never faded. Lucy carefully brushed her fingers across it pulling away with a gasp when she felt the icy cold. It was as though an ice cube had been inserted into his body and despite the warmth refused to melt.

“It is like nothing I have seen before.” Caspian breathed, leaning closer. He reached out, asking Edmund with his eyes before touching the mark with the barest tips of his fingers.

“It doesn’t usually feel so cold. When did it do that?” Lucy asked.

“The moment I stabbed Jadis. It will fade. Already it is better than before. It is warming up.” Edmund said quietly, tugging back down his tunic.

“I could give you some cordial.” Lucy offered, reaching for her belt pouch and the precious liquid within the flask.

Edmund shook his head.

“The cordial has done all the good it can for this wound, some magic prevails.”

Lucy frowned, a sudden thought striking her.

“Hang on; when we returned to Britain our bodies reverted too. How come you still have the scar? I know I don’t have the same scars I used to.” 

Edmund smiled slightly.

“The same happened for me, except this one. It never left.” 

Lucy swallowed. Edmund didn’t need a reminder of that. Especially such an odious mark.

“Does it pain you at times?” Prince Caspian asked leaning back on his heels. Edmund shrugged.

“Only in the dead of winter, when your bones are chilled and you feel you can walk no longer. It is fine.” Edmund answered, getting off the table and straightening with only the barest wince.

“Come.” Edmund beckoned walking over to a far smaller tapestry than the others dotted about, tucked away in the corner, almost as though someone had tucked it out of sight.

At first glance it was just like the other tapestries hanging on the wall, depicting a past great deed or tale. Sometimes a combination of both.

“It tells of the battle against Jadis, but the message is of mercy. Here.” Edmund pointed out a small figure, standing battered next to the White Witch.

“You are depicted twice in the same scene.” Caspian’s keen eyes picked out what Lucy hadn’t seen at first.

There, standing on the opposite side, next to Peter dressed in his royal battle armour stood Edmund as well. Only this Edmund stood tall and proud, ready to defend Narnia and his brother.

“Yes. It was by Aslan’s mercy that I got the opportunity to once again stand at Peter’s side, to fight for my siblings and for Narnia. To attempt to undo the wrong I committed, to make sure no more died because of me.” Edmund’s words were impassioned but when Lucy turned to face him his eyes were calm. Gentle.

Not for the first time Lucy wondered how his noble bearing had come to be. Her level headed brother, a boy who dealt out justice with the wisdom of a hundred wise men.

“Remember this, Prince Caspian, when you are set upon your thrown. That it is through mercy and forgiveness that you must temper your justice. After all, it is through Aslan’s will that you will rule and we must strive to digest the lessons he gifts us with and make sure they were not in vain.”

Lucy watched, silently, as Prince Caspian gave a tilt of the head, a bow that meant so much more than a tiny gesture could contain.

Her brother spoke in truths and his voice held conviction, so sure that Caspian would one day be king. Lucy smiled when she realised she wasn’t the only one who still believed Aslan would come.

Edmund did too. Even if he followed Peter into an ill thought out battle devoid of the Great Lion’s blessing he did so for _Peter_. For Narnia. Not out of a lack of faith.

“But remember, for there to be forgiveness, the one forgiven needs to seek it.” She chimed in. Forgiving everyone their wrongs was not necessarily a good thing, mercy when the merciless didn’t want it nor repent was not worthless but worth _less_.

It had to be _meant_.

“The Telemarines are not known for their mercy.” Caspian murmured, head tilted slightly as though in prayer.

“You are the Telemarines heir, not any of your ancestors themselves. You are not your uncle.” Edmund said.

“I bear their blood in my veins.”

“And yet, you blew the horn. It wouldn’t have been answered had your call not been sincere.” Lucy smiled, gently gripping each of their arms. “Come, it’s time to seek what little rest you can get before dawn.” She made no mention of the battle that was to commence. She didn’t agree with it but now was not the time to argue.


End file.
